


Love Only Myself

by Mitsuhachi



Series: Monster's Heart [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Other, wet messy dirty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-03
Updated: 2011-08-03
Packaged: 2017-10-22 04:05:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/233565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mitsuhachi/pseuds/Mitsuhachi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I would fight only for myself and love only myself. If all other people exist to magnify that love, then there is no more splendid a world than this one."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Only Myself

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for an underaged character engaging in ~~really unhealthy coping mechanisms~~ non-sexual kink and also for violence/gore. Written for the Kink_Bingo square "Wet/Messy/Dirty".

The first he heard of it was the th-th-thunk of shuriken hitting the Sand. Very carefully, Gaara set aside his toy ball and turned to face the latest of the assassins the Kazekage had sent for him. It was a grown-up, of course, and it had knives of various kinds strapped just above its knee. Probably there was more to the assassin than that, but Gaara couldn’t be bothered to look up. It craned his neck; he didn’t like it.

“You should just die,” the assassin was snarling at him. The Sand shifted in the gourd, curling around his ankles, eager. “A weapon that turns on its wielders is useless, and you should just GET RID OF IT!”

A weapon. That was right—human beings gave and received love with each other, but a weapon existed only to kill. Gaara loved only himself, and received love only from himself. He looked up, silently directing the Sand as it curled around the body of the human. Sometimes, he liked to think that his father sent him these assassins so often so that Gaara could know there was a reason for him to exist, the strongest of Suna’s weapons that no one could harm. Gaara rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet and felt the Sand like it was his own fingers slowly crushing the human’s ribcage. That was right: Gaara was a good weapon, he and the Sand were the best weapon.

“Right, mother?” he asked, smiling a little, over the human’s screaming. Mother had been human, once, he knows, but Gaara had killed that part of her. Now she was like him. She was in the Sand, protecting him, loving him. Mother knew what it was to be a weapon. Underneath the Sand, the human’s bones gave way entirely, muscles and organs and the little white gristly bits his teachers hadn’t yet taught him names for all collapsing together into a bloody mush.

Gaara giggled, fed more of the Sand into the mix—fine, powdery Sand that would soak up lots and lots of blood. The mass floated closer to him, like the Sand didn’t want to be so far away and warm little drops fell over his face like the few days of summer rain the desert got, like a mother’s love. Gaara’s body didn’t soak up blood the way the Sand did, but he rubbed it into his skin anyway. Thicker bits fell down, too, bits of the pink stuff inside humans catching in his hair and powdery flakes of crushed bone smearing red and white across his tunic. The Sand was taking in most of the body, drinking the blood up hungrily, happily, and it wanted to share that with Gaara, too.

Gaara sat, still rocking like he imagined Mother would have rocked him, feeling the wet, gritty kiss of Sand sticking to his cheeks, over his eyelids. Absently, he trailed his fingers through the mess, watching his fingers turn pink and then red and shining. Like this, Gaara knew he was alive. He was good. He had an important reason to exist. He curled up on his side, feeling the cooling wet of the blood on the floor soaking through his tunic and the heavy weight of the Sand curling protectively over him, keeping out the cold as Gaara blinked sleepily.

Surely, this was love.


End file.
